"So has anyone been inside the mountain since we left?" Skyler asked as they drove eastward along the winding road toward Reger's estate.
"Anne and I went in a couple of times in the first few months," Kanai said. "We wanted to see if there was any more information on Whiplash we might have missed earlier."
Skyler nodded, thinking of the irony of it all. The old Torch resistance organization had spent its last days in Aegis Mountain, working to develop a drug capable of breaking the hitherto unbreakable Ryqril loyalty-conditioning. And they'd succeeded, only to succumb to the residual chemical warfare contamination in the base before they'd even had a chance to use it. "Was there?"
"Not that we could find," Kanai said. "We were able to get a couple other sections of the base operational, though, complete with heat and power. We got one of the elevators running, too."
"I hope you didn't go near the main command level," Hawking warned.
"And risk bringing the entire mountain down on us?" Kanai snorted gently. "Give us a little more credit than that, Commando Hawking."
"I'm sure he was just asking," Skyler assured him. "But you haven't been inside lately?"
In the reflected glow of the headlights, Skyler saw Kanai's lips compress briefly. "As I say, we've had some differences of opinion. I'm mostly working with Reger these days."
"What kind of differences?" Skyler pressed.
"Perhaps it would be best if we wait until ..."
He trailed off.
"What is it?" Skyler asked, looking out the windshield.
"That's the road to Reger's estate," Kanai said, pointing ahead to a road branching off to the right. "Those two houses on either side of the intersection have their porch lights on."
"And they shouldn't?" Skyler asked.
"All the houses on that road are owned by Reger's people," Kanai said. The car came up to the road, and he drove past without slowing. "The porch lights are never lit unless something's wrong."
"Any other ways in?" O'Hara asked.
"There's an access road along the west side of the estate," Hawking said. "It'll bring us right up to the sensor keyhole Jensen and I put in."
"Unless Reger's closed it up," Skyler said.
"I don't believe he has," Kanai said. "No one but a blackcollar would be able to sneak in along it anyway."
"Okay, get us back to that road," Skyler said. "You and Hawking know the system and grounds best—you'll go in through the keyhole. O'Hara and I will give you some lead time, then we'll come in the front door."
It took Kanai a few minutes by back street and other people's access roads to return them to the western edge of the Reger estate. Maneuvering the car around the worst of the potholes, he came to a halt a few meters from the outer fence, a simple-looking wire-mesh design, two meters tall, that probably looked like any number of other property-line fences in this part of the mountains. "Electrified, no doubt," O'Hara commented as the four blackcollars approached it.
"Yes, but not seriously," Hawking assured him. "Jensen cranked back most of the juice so that he could run pressure sensors along the top without the current blinding them."
"Another good reason to leave the fence alone," Skyler said, pulling on his battle-hood and gloves as the others followed suit. "O'Hara?"
O'Hara stepped to his side, and together they eased their way cautiously forward until they were about a meter from the fence. There was no obvious reaction from either the fence or the environs. Turning to face each other a meter apart, they settled into wide horse stances, knees bent, hands cupped thigh high in front of them. "Kanai?" Skyler said, looking back at the others.
Kanai nodded and started forward at a slow jog, picking up speed as he came. He reached Skyler and O'Hara and leaped forward and upward.
And as he did so, the two blackcollars caught the undersides of his boots in their cupped hands and pulled convulsively upward, hurling him toward the night sky. He flew to the top of the fence and did a neat high jumper's roll over the top, continuing the roll and twist and landing in a crouch on the other side.
Fifteen seconds later, Hawking was beside him. "You've got fifteen minutes to get through the grounds and check out the house," Skyler told them. "After that, O'Hara and I drive up to the front door like we owned the place."
"We'll be ready," Hawking promised. Touching Kanai on the shoulder, he gestured, and together they slipped away into the night.
"This is completely outrageous," Manx Reger growled, his eyes blazing as he glared at Poirot from the middle of the large overstuffed chair where the two Security men standing to his right and left had planted him. "It's also completely illegal."
"That's good, coming from a crime boss," Poirot countered. "Let me ask one more time: What's in the shipment your friends dropped tonight?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Reger said stiffly. "And as for being a crime boss, I deny that categorically."
"Of course you do." Poirot turned to the door as Bailey came into the room. "You have everyone?"
"I think so," Bailey said. "There were two more hiding in shielded guard holes. We've put everyone together in the dining room."
"Make sure they stay quiet," Poirot warned.
"We will," Bailey assured him. "I also heard from the spotters. They say a car's gone down the access road west of the estate and stopped by the fence there. Four men got out, and they think two of them must have gotten through the fence somewhere and come onto the grounds. Only two got back into the car, anyway."
Poirot scratched his cheek. Suspicious couriers checking out the estate before making their delivery? Or was it standard procedure to bypass the house and deliver the contraband to a hidden cache somewhere else on the grounds?
He looked at Reger, but the other's face wasn't giving anything away. "Put a couple of our plainclothes men outside," he told Bailey. "Tell them to keep out of the light. Maybe the sight of some roving guards will make our gate-crashers happier."
Bailey nodded and repeated the orders into his comm. "What about the two in the car?" he asked.
"Let them be," Poirot told him. "Sooner or later, I'm sure they'll come to see us."
"Five minutes," O'Hara said.
Skyler nodded. So far, whoever had taken over Reger's estate hadn't come to check out this car sitting on the road along the western fence. Either inattention or overconfidence, and either was likely to cost them. "I'm thinking we'll just go straight in, play stupid, and take it from there," he said.
"They may remember you," O'Hara pointed out. "And if Galway's been doing his job, they probably have a photo of me, as well."
"Which I'm guessing local Security will have long forgotten," Skyler said. "They've got enough faces from their own neighborhood to memorize."
"I suppose." O'Hara was silent a moment. "I wonder what this difference of opinion is that Kanai's having with Phoenix."
"Whatever it is, I don't like it," Skyler said. "A Resistance movement is no place for politics and disagreements."
"Not that that's ever stopped anyone," O'Hara pointed out.
"Which is why those groups fall apart so often once they finally win," Skyler said. "The last thing we want is for that to happen here."
"I'll bet they're fighting over what to do with the moles they've created in the political structure," O'Hara mused. "One of them probably wants to start making trouble now, while the other wants to wait until they get word to act. Or maybe there's a difference of opinion as to what targets to go after."
"Or they're fighting over Aegis Mountain," Skyler said. "There's got to be a lot of interesting stuff in the doomsdayed areas. One of them may be wanting to take the risk of trying to get those rooms open."
"Ouch," O'Hara murmured. "That would certainly make the Ryqril sit up and take notice."
"Not to mention everyone in the immediate area," Skyler agreed. "That immediate area possibly including much of Denver itself."
"Yeah." O'Hara checked his watch. "Time to go."
"Right." Skyler started the car and pulled onto the road again.
"Signal from the gate," Bailey reported. "The car's coming down the road, two males visible."
"Have the men at the gate pass them through," Poirot ordered. "Then they're to close up and follow them in. Two plainclothesmen from the house are to meet them as they come up, with a sniper out of sight in one of the front windows. Hopefully, they'll be smart enough not to make trouble."
"Yes, sir," Bailey said, repeating the orders. "Heading out now."
"And warn them not to identify themselves until after the men are out of the car," Poirot added. "As far as they're concerned, everything here is business as usual."
"Yes, sir," Bailey said, frowning as he pressed his comm earphone harder against his ear. "Sir, the team leader reports he can't raise the two men we sent outside earlier."
From somewhere out in the hallway came a soft thud. Poirot turned that direction, wondering in irritation which of his men was falling over his own feet.
To see a black-clad figure walk casually into the room.
For a single, impossibly long heartbeat it didn't register. Then, with a rush of adrenaline, Poirot finally understood what was happening. "Alert!" he shouted as loudly as he could, grabbing for his holstered paral-dart pistol.
The two Security men standing behind Reger's chair were already in motion. It didn't do them a bit of good. The blackcollar had a pair of throwing stars cupped in his hand, and even as the guards tried to bring their own guns to bear he flipped the weapons into their throats. Both men toppled backward, one of them sending a cluster of darts harmlessly into the ceiling as he died.
"Don't," the blackcollar warned. He had his arm cocked over his shoulder, another throwing star in hand, aimed at Poirot and Bailey. "Hands away from your guns, please."
Poirot focused on the two dead guards. "Hands away," he ordered Bailey through clenched teeth as he lifted his own hands. "But you're too late," he added to the blackcollar. "My men have already been alerted."
The other shrugged slightly. "We'll see."
Skyler had brought the car to a halt at the mansion's ornate front entryway, and the two men waiting at the door were striding toward the car when both of them abruptly twitched and went for their guns. "It's blown," Skyler snapped. Wrenching open his door, he dived out onto the ground.
He was just in time. Even as he hit the ground a cloud of paral-darts scattered off the car's roof with a nails-on-slate screech. Rolling back to his knees, he sent a pair of shuriken toward the nearest attacker.
The man ducked, but not quite far enough. One of the stars skimmed past his head, as the second buried itself in his right shoulder. He staggered with the impact, his next shot going wild. Skyler grabbed out one of his knives before the other could regain his balance and with a hard underhand throw sent it to bounce hilt first off the man's forehead. He went down, his gun flying from his hand, and lay still.
There was a flicker of movement from the mansion itself, and Skyler was slammed backward as a flechette slammed into his chest, turning his flexarmor momentarily rigid as it blocked the shot and distributed the impact over his entire body. He dived away from the car as the flexarmor relaxed, dodging in a roll-leap evasive maneuver, wishing he'd had time to put on his battle-hood as he searched the windows for the sniper. There was a second flicker from one of the first-floor windows, and he caught a glimpse of a figure standing there as a patch of pavement beside him erupted into splinters. Dodging again to the side, he grabbed another shuriken and hurled it toward the window, knowing the sniper was well out of range but hoping to brush him back until O'Hara could get to cover and get out his slingshot.
There was another flicker from the window; but this time the shot buried itself in a tree trunk five meters to Skyler's left. He pulled out another shuriken, wondering if the man could really have reacted that strongly to his first throw.
And even as his brain caught up with the fact that that there had been two men at the window, the tingler on his wrist came to life: sniper down; house secure.
Skyler huffed a sigh of relief. But there was no time to pause for congratulations. The two men who'd followed the car in from the gate were sprinting toward them now, one rapid-firing paral-dart bursts, the other laying down scattergun blasts as fast as he could work the pump.
They were still coming when the paral-dart gunner abruptly folded over his stomach and flopped onto the ground. His partner had just enough time to work the scattergun pump one last time, and then his head jerked hard and he, too, crumpled into a heap.
"You okay?" O'Hara called as he rose from the partial cover of the car, a third stone ready in his slingshot as he surveyed his work.
"I'm fine," Skyler assured him, looking up at the stars overhead. Paral-dart guns meant Security, and Security meant high-flying spotters. He wondered how much of the brief battle they'd seen. "Let's get inside."
Kanai was waiting inside the front door, and together they went back to the house's well-stocked library. Reger was seated in a large chair near the center, with a couple of bodies on the floor behind him and two uniformed Security officers posed stiffly against one wall. Standing watch over the whole thing was Hawking. "Any problems?" Skyler asked as they joined him.
Hawking shook his head. "Most of them were conveniently grouped in the dining room, standing guard over the house men. The roamers were a little more trouble, but not much."
"Good." Skyler turned to Reger. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Reger."
"The pleasure's all yours," Reger countered sourly. "Skyler, isn't it?"
"Yes," Skyler confirmed. He nodded toward the Security men. "Who are your friends?"
"Nobody in this room qualifies as a friend," Reger retorted. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"
"Making trouble," Skyler said, looking at the Security men. "And you are ...?"
"General Avral Poirot, Denver Chief of Security," the older man identified himself, his voice as stiff as his posture but calm and professional for all that. "This is Assistant Chief Colonel Pytor Bailey. I see tonight's drop was personnel, not equipment. My mistake."
"Mistakes happen," Skyler said. So even with their new nonchuted drop pod's faster descent, Security had still spotted it. That was useful to know. He hoped Lathe's zip line insertion on Khala had worked out better. "So was this just a social visit?"
Poirot snorted. "Please, Commando. The very fact that you're in this room proves our suspicions of Reger and his Resistance connections were right."
Reger swore under his breath. "Oh, that's wonderful," he ground out. "Just wonderful. Thank you, Skyler, thank you so very much."
"A temporary problem only," Skyler assured him. "The general and colonel are about to graduate from the third type of person to the fourth."
"What?" Reger asked, frowning.
"Never mind," Skyler said. "Private joke. Would you be so kind as to show Hawking where you keep your Whiplash supply?"
Reger shook his head. "I don't have any."
"None?" Skyler asked. "I would have thought you'd be—"
"You thought wrong," Reger cut him off. "Phoenix has it all."
Skyler looked at Kanai, noting the hard set of the other's mouth. Part of the argument he was having with the organization? "Then I guess we'll have to go get it from them," he said, turning back to Poirot. "What are your spotters' orders, General?"
Poirot looked at the others, perhaps wondering if cooperation would violate his loyalty-conditioning. "They're to stay at high altitude and watch," he said. "Though of course they'll have heard my warning. They're probably trying to contact us right now, preparatory to calling in reinforcements." He raised his eyebrows. "If you'd like, I could get on the comm and send them away."
Skyler smiled cynically. "Of course you could."
"Really," Poirot assured him. "What's Whiplash?"
"Nothing you need concern yourself with just now," Skyler said, walking over to them. "Pleasant dreams." His hand snapped out to slam a punch behind Bailey's right ear and then backfist Poirot behind his left.
Both men dropped without even a gasp, Skyler catching Poirot beneath his arms as he fell. "Well, don't just stand there," he said, turning back to the others. "We'll take the Security cars—might as well listen in on what they're up to while we drive."
"Are we taking both men?" Kanai asked.
Skyler looked down at Bailey's crumpled form. He had no problem with giving Whiplash to both men, certainly, but blatantly kidnapping two senior Security officers might stir up more trouble than he really wanted just now. Besides, if Phoenix had been doing its job, they would have built up personality and operational profiles on all of Denver's Security officers, and it would be better to leave one of them here than to have the Ryqril bring in a complete unknown from Dallas or San Francisco to take over. "No, just the general," he told Kanai. "Get out there and see if you're going to have any trouble starting the cars."
"So that's it?" Reger growled. "You come into my house, bounce a bunch of Security men around, and then just leave?"
"You're welcome to join us," Skyler offered as he hoisted Poirot up onto his shoulder. "If not, I'm sure you can explain this to the follow-up group."
"You leave me so much choice," Reger bit out as he reluctantly got to his feet. "Where do you propose we go?"
"Let's start with a place where we can keep General Poirot quiet and incommunicado," Skyler said. "I trust you and Kanai have some idea where Phoenix's safe houses are?"
Reger shot a look at Kanai. "Personally, I wouldn't trust anything those amateurs set up," he said. "But I have a couple places of my own that should work. Assuming we get there in one piece, then what?"
"Then we go look up Anne Silcox," Skyler said grimly. "And find out what the hell she and her group are doing."
Between the drag of the crosswinds and the weight of Flynn's glider still tethered beneath his, Jensen wasn't quite able to make it over the final row of hills he'd been aiming for. Instead, the two men landed on the northern slope of one of them, fifty meters below the crest.
It was just as well they hadn't gotten any farther.
"So that's Aegis Mountain," Flynn murmured from beside Jensen as they lay flat on their bellies at the top of the hill.
"That's the place," Jensen said, a prickly sensation crawling across his skin. At the bottom of their ridge, perhaps half a klick away, a wide highway wound its way through the mountains, disappearing around hills in both directions. Away to their left, on the far side of the highway, a black mountain with a wide metal doorway set into its base rose majestically against the night sky.
And filling most of the space between the road and mountain, nestled right up against the slope, were the lights and domed buildings and perimeter wall and huge sensor-controlled laser cannon of a full-scale Ryqril military base.
"Good thing we didn't have any more altitude," Flynn said. He was obviously trying to sound casual, but even in a whisper Jensen could hear the tension in his voice. "That base is bigger than I expected."
"I know," Jensen heard himself say. "It's bigger than I expected, too."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Flynn turn to face him. "What?"
Jensen nodded toward the base. "It's bigger than it was last year," he said. "A lot bigger. Come on, let's get out of here."
Carefully, they backed down the hill until they were well below the summit and out of range of both prying eyes and line-of-sight autotarget lasers. "You think they've gotten into the mountain?" Flynn whispered as they crouched together in the shadows at the base of a tall pine tree.
"I doubt it," Jensen said, playing the image of the encampment through his mind. "All the equipment I could see under the entrance overhang looked like heavy tunneling and metalwork machinery. That would suggest they're still trying to cut their way through the various doors. Besides, if they'd broken through I'd think they'd have flown a few flag officers in for the occasion, and I didn't see any of those sawtooth-edged rank banners flying anywhere." He grimaced. "But they sure seem to have decided to up their ante on the project."
Flynn was silent a moment. "Maybe they know about Whiplash," he suggested.
"And are hoping to find data about it?" Jensen shrugged. "Could be. Either that, or their war with the Chryselli is getting more desperate than we thought and they're looking for something—anything—to tilt the odds back in their favor."
"I suppose that qualifies as good news for our side," Flynn said doubtfully. "Provided they don't actually find some nice superweapon in there."
"If we'd had any superweapons, we sure as hell would have used them," Jensen pointed out, gazing up at the stars peeking through the pine tree's branches. "But it's all academic, because they're not going to get in."
"I hope you're right."
"We're going to make sure I'm right," Jensen said firmly, straightening up. "Come on."
"Where are we—?"
He broke off as Jensen's hand flicked warningly toward his mouth. There had been the sound of movement over to their left ...
Jensen's shuriken pouch was in his left coat pocket. He drew one of the throwing stars with one hand as he signaled Flynn to stay put with the other. Shifting the shuriken to his right hand, he eased his way to the next tree over, and then the next, his senses stretched out in full combat mode. The sound came again—
And from around a clump of bushes, a Ryq stepped into view.
Jensen felt his breath freeze in his throat. Had their gliders been spotted? Or had he and Flynn tripped some defense sensors he'd missed?
But the Ryq didn't seem to be searching for anyone or anything. On the contrary, his pace and posture were almost casual, certainly not the intense look of a soldier searching for suspected intruders. A sentry, then, walking his assigned territory with the low-level watchfulness of a warrior who hadn't run into any trouble for weeks in a row and wasn't expecting any tonight.
Under other circumstances, Jensen would have been more than happy to stay out of the alien's evening entirely. Unfortunately for the Ryq, his meandering walk was taking him straight toward the tree where Flynn was crouching. Hefting the shuriken in his hand, Jensen did a quick check of the rest of the area.
And as the Ryq half turned to face his direction he hurled the weapon straight into the other's throat. With no sound except the muffled thud of his impact, the alien collapsed to the ground.
Flynn was standing over the body when Jensen got there, nunchaku at the ready. "I think he's dead," the boy whispered, his body trembling slightly with adrenaline reaction.
"He is," Jensen assured him as he pulled out the shuriken and returned it to his pouch. "They've obviously pushed their perimeter out farther than I expected. Help me get him back up the hill."
The Ryq was on the smallish side, as Ryq went. Nevertheless, it was no small task to lug his deadweight back up the hill overlooking the base. Making sure they themselves stayed low and out of sight, the two men eased the body over the top and let it roll down the steep slope into the darkness below. "That's not going to fool anyone for long," Flynn warned as they again eased their way back down their side of the hill. "As soon as they see that wound they'll know what happened."
"True, but having to haul the body out of there may buy us another hour or two," Jensen pointed out.
"Maybe," Flynn muttered. "Skyler just better get that car out here fast."
"Actually, I hope he doesn't," Jensen said. "Because we're not linking up with him and the others just yet."
"We're not?" Flynn asked cautiously.
"No," Jensen said. They reached the bottom of the hill; getting his bearings, he turned northwest. "We're heading for the back door into Aegis Mountain."
"To do what?"
"Like I told you," Jensen said, hearing the grim set to his voice. "To make sure the Ryqril don't get into the base. Quiet, now—there may be more sentries around."
"Colonel Bailey?" a voice called in the darkness. "Colonel?"
The darkness grew lighter, and Bailey opened his eyes to find a Security medic peering anxiously down at him. "How do you feel, sir?" the medic asked.
"How do you think I feel," Bailey growled. He started to lift his head, instantly thought better of it. "What happened? Who's in charge?"
"I am, sir," a young officer said, stepping into view from behind the kneeling medic. "Lieutenant Ramirez, from the Boulder Security office. I'm afraid they got away, Colonel, the assailants and Reger's people both." His lips compressed. "And they seem to have taken General Poirot with them."
"What?" Bailey snapped, ignoring the pain in his head as he forced himself into a sitting position. "Why didn't you stop them?"
"We didn't know until the ground team had penetrated the estate that the general had been taken," Ramirez said, his voice under rigid control. "All the spotters could see was that one of the escapees was carrying a bundle over his shoulder wrapped in a blanket."
"Why didn't they come down for a better look?"
"The general had ordered them previously to hold position," Ramirez said. "There was a shouted alert, but no new orders."
"That's because no one was available to give them," Bailey ground out. "Do you at least still have them under surveillance?"
Ramirez's cheek twitched. "Actually—"
"Damn it, all," Bailey snarled. "I want those pilots on report. Every one of them."
"It wasn't their fault," Ramirez said firmly. "The escapees had eight cars, and they set off a smoke bomb before sorting themselves out among the vehicles. They split up just outside Denver, and ... well, there was a certain lack of coordination between the Denver and Boulder offices. By the time we'd sorted it out and had enough spotters in position, we'd lost three of the cars."
Bailey bit back another curse, a chill running through him. It was starting again, just like it had a year ago. Comsquare Lathe and his blackcollars were on the move, and already two jumps ahead of them. "What about the cars you haven't lost?"
"Their occupants have gone to ground, but we have the various locations under surveillance," the lieutenant said, sounding a little more confident.
"Go in and get them," Bailey ordered. "Paral-darts only. I want them alive and able to talk."
"Yes, sir." The lieutenant pulled a comm from his belt. "This is Lieutenant Ramirez. All Operation Seven surveillance units: move in." He got acknowledgements and returned the comm to its holder. "Maybe we'll be lucky, sir, and General Poirot will be in one of those groups."
"We're never that lucky," Bailey growled, pushing himself to his feet. "Not with this group. Get away from me," he added tartly, pushing aside the medic's hand as the other tried to take his arm. "All right, here's the plan. Call Athena and have them pull all intel reports on suspected Resistance activity and personnel, including everything we've got on this Phoenix group we keep hearing rumors about. Put surveillance units on everyone whose name shows up in those reports. They're to watch and report, but not to take action without my order."
"Understood, sir," Ramirez said, his comm in hand again. "And then we should get you to a hospital."
"The hell with that," Bailey said, again fending off the medic's proffered hand. His head was starting to throb again, but he was damned if he was going to let that slow him down. Not with General Poirot in enemy hands. "They can fix me up on the ride back to Athena. Get me a car and driver—I want to be there before they start bringing in the prisoners."
"Yes, sir," Ramirez said.
"And after you get those surveillance units in place," Bailey added as he started toward the door, "get someone looking for everything we might have heard about something called Whiplash."